


the hour goes by

by ElasticElla



Series: If Not, Winter [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, Elementary (TV)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, F/F, background fiona/sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7050940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They think she's a suspect. It's obvious from the way they have one of their own, not one trained in the field- the closest they have to a civilian in Penelope Garcia- questioning her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the hour goes by

They think she's a suspect. It's obvious from the way they have one of their own, not one trained in the field- the closest they have to a civilian in Penelope Garcia- questioning her. It also means they haven't decided yet if Sherlock has been taken by the person that's been skipping across state lines to abduct chess prodigies, bodies showing up in public parks a week later. 

She would find Garcia's methods cute- a nervous smile a little too wide to be professional, fuzzy pens, and kitten photos- if Joan didn't feel like this was a huge waste of time. Sherlock only has three days left, five maybe if he's directly interacting with his captor, and Joan's beginning to feel a little panicked. The time-line might already be shortened since Sherlock isn't the killer's usual type, he might already be-

(She couldn't get a hold of Moriarty, and that worried her even more. Moved her from the 'has previously saved them to avoid others ruining their game' box to a 'might possibly be behind it' box.)

They're questioning Fiona down the hall, and Joan just needs to look at the case objectively. There must be something, some clue that she's missed-

“Can you tell me about the last time you saw Mr. Holmes?” Garcia asks, smile turned apologetic. 

Joan's already written up a statement, but it's always been easier for her to recollect aloud. 

“It was Sunday night, a little bit after seven. I was playing Civilization, and Jeopardy was on in the background when Sherlock came home. He was wearing his usual black jacket, slacks, and a red plaid scarf. He was talking about the McMallion case; a small treasure hunt he was doing in his free time when there weren't any active cases.” 

“What was the treasure? Did he find it?” Garcia asks.

Joan shakes her head, “No, not what you're thinking. It was the family's old portraits. Not very valuable in their own right, and I found and delivered them Monday afternoon.”

“Were you worried about Mr. Holmes whereabouts then? You two do live together.” 

Joan's lips quirk, “No, I thought he was staying at his girlfriend's- Fiona's.”

“Any particular reason you thought that?”

“No, I- oh, wait. He said something about getting her a new book about cats, a better one. So I thought he had gone from the bookstore to her place.” 

And that, that was new. 

Garcia grins, fingers rapidly typing on her laptop. “Alright, I have four bookstores within walking distance of your apartment...” 

.

Garcia gives the information to the rest of her team, calling someone named _my mortal Adonis_ and there's a twinge of something that Joan ignores. 

“This is the hardest part,” she confesses with big eyes. “The waiting.”

Joan's lips purse, and she knows why she can't be with the other half the team, but she isn't happy about it. 

“Do you want a distraction?” Garcia asks softly, and Joan suddenly wishes they had meet under very different circumstances. Or perhaps not that different, just a case that wasn't personal, one where they could go out for drinks after to unwind and Joan wouldn't feel so awful for wanting to. 

Joan nods, “What do you have?” 

Garcia sits up, crossing her ankles. “Alright- offline toys only. I have one player, two player, mostly classics but some newer stuff as well-”

“Do you have Galaga?” 

“A girl after my own heart,” Garcia says, tossing her a controller. 

(There are a few brief interruptions when the team has Garcia look stuff up, and every time Garcia shakes her head a little bit, and Joan tries to ignore the panic growing in her gut.)

. 

Three hours later, Sherlock is safe and being looked at in the hospital, complaining to the nurse while impatiently re-listing his vitals.

Fiona's lips are quirked, “Indulge us. You'll be out quicker if you stop trying to debate every person who works here.” 

Sherlock's mouth opens, doubtless to say he doesn't plan on debating everyone- certainly not the janitors or receptionists- when it closes suddenly, and he opens his hand instead, palm up. Joan looks away as Fiona gently takes his hand, feeling intrusive and awkward. She doesn't usually see this side of Sherlock, and while it's improbable he's forgotten she's there, she's very glad to spot Garcia hovering at the door. 

“Hey hero.” 

Garcia blushes, “Thanks. We're flying out to Chicago for another case, I just wanted to give you my card.” 

“In case Sherlock gets put into another giant puzzle?” 

“Or if you wanted to make the jump from individual gaming to mmorpgs.” 

And Joan smiles, tucking the business card into her pocket, “I just might.” 

.

Joan would never tell Penny (Garcia feels too formal while they're doing raids together), but she's really not into the mmorpg style. She doesn't like being completely dependent on another, of not being able to make active progress alone. 

But she does enjoy her Saturday afternoons with Penny, bar any urgent case for either of them. She knows it's just a matter of time before Sherlock finds out, and she likes having Penny all to herself. (And it's irrational, she knows it is- but there's a tiny voice in the back of her head insisting that Penny would like Sherlock more than her, that he's too good at collecting people.)

Joan's not sure when the friendly anticipation turns romantic, but she recognizes it one Saturday in January. There's an hour before they're set to meet, and Joan is primping like she does for dates. Sherlock stumbles across her, and by his eyebrow arch, her hypothesis is confirmed. (She used to be better at knowing herself, has spent too much time knowing, hunting strangers.)

“I hear you've managed to ensnare quite a hacker, the former Black Queen. You have my sincerest congratulations Watson. Next weekend I will be out, should you wish to invite her.” 

...well, she supposes soon could be good, hopes Penny might be able to visit New York.


End file.
